


Hunger

by Not_You



Series: A Gentleman of Negotiable Virtue [8]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Erik is losing it, M/M, oh boys you are being so silly, still more UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which not much happens, though Erik wishes to God it would.</p><p>Also, Shaw can be a dick even from beyond the grave.  It's his super power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger

Erik lightly thumps his head against the wall. He is a prostitute in love with and in debt to the same man, and that's horrible. He wants Charles so badly he can hardly bear it, and he knows that Charles will never once believe that he's not simply trying to pay him back. He groans and runs his hands through his hair. Shaw's will is being read today, and all he wants is to wrap around Charles and hide under the covers all day. It's still raining, and that doesn't help.

"Erik? We need to leave soon."

"Coming." Fuck, he wishes he was and grits his teeth fighting not to drown in the memory of their last time together, Charles's perfect mouth consuming him. In the end he has to give his balls a horrible little tug that makes him nauseated and achy and more miserable than ever when he finally joins Charles in the car. Charles smiles wryly, glancing over as Erik slumps against the window.

"I know. Hopefully it won't be too long."

It isn't. The business and pretty much everything else goes to an estranged son no one has ever heard of and who isn't here today, but Erik does gain a lovely new collection of Nazi memorabilia. "That fucking son of a bitch," Erik murmurs, and steps outside to smoke, something he hardly ever does. Halfway through his cigarette, Charles joins him.

"I am sorry, Erik."

"Yeah, me too. That the prick was ever born. Guess I'll donate the damned things to a Holocaust museum or something."

"Sounds like a good use for them. Got an extra cancer stick?"

"For you, always." He pulls one out of the pack, slotting it between his lips beside the half-smoked one to light it before handing it over.

"A deft performance."

"Thank you, thank you," he smiles down at Charles, "I'm here all week."

Later on, when they're (home) back at Charles's place, it warms his heart to hear Charles bitching to Raven about Shaw's bequest. He's really getting into it, even slamming a few things around, which is usually his sister's role. Erik tries to remember the last time someone got really angry on his behalf, and it's hard going. At last he pokes his head into the kitchen and assures Charles that he's fine, grinning to see him blush bright red. Erik wants to kiss him more than ever, and has to settle for darting in long enough to pat his shoulder before heading on his way to make the calls he needs to.

The second he hangs up, the phone rings. "Yes?"

"Mr. Lensherr?"

"Hello, Ms. Frost." She asks about the bequest, and he can hear the wheels in her head turning. He's glad she's on his side and not the state's, and remembers to ask after all five of her anomalous daughters. It warms his heart to hear what a loving mother this cold woman is under her hauteur. The girls are doing well, and apparently Esme has a schoolgirl crush on him, which makes him laugh.

"I am proud to see her good taste at such a young age."

"Thank you."

She chuckles, and gives him some more pertinent information before hanging up. He shivers, giving in for a moment to the horrible dread of the trial that looms in the rapidly-lessening distance. He opens the window and pulls in a few deep breaths of the cold, damp air. It helps, as does the scent of cut grass it carries with it. Erik sighs and leans against the pane when he closes it again. He has to get out of here. If he wasn't living under Charles's roof, he might stand a chance in hell of convincing Charles that he would have done everything with him that he has for free.

Charles rolls up to him as if summoned by his thoughts. He has exchanged his button-down and blazer for a big, loose sweater that gaps away from his collar bones and seems to beg Erik to slide his hands down into it. "We were going to order out. Any preferences?"

Erik just shrugs, because what he really wants is a can of whipped cream to eat off of Charles. That is, if he's not too fastidious to bear it. He hopes he'll get a chance to ask man to man and not hooker to client. "I don't think I can stomach too much spice right now, and you know I do my best not to eat pig."

Charles smiles. "Of course."

They end up with pizza and Charles looks like the adorable university student he must have been once upon a time, scarfing it down and arguing politics with Raven as he slaps her greasy fingers away from his plate. Erik just laughs at them and manages not to leap on Charles and fucking devour him, but it's a near thing.


End file.
